


Paperwork

by Nyaar



Series: Crusaders [2]
Category: overwatch
Genre: Balderich always takes care of Rein, Gen, little drabble, young Reinhardt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 03:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14991839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyaar/pseuds/Nyaar
Summary: Balderich hates paperwork. Fortunately for him, Reinhardt always finds a way of making things better, even when he doesn't mean to.





	Paperwork

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same universe as Wait for It.

There was one thing, and one thing only, that Balderich von Adler hated more than the Omnics tearing Germany apart: paperwork.

As an Army General, and now as the Crusader General, he had a horrible amount of responsibilities to deal with everyday. They ranged from mission reports to training programs, review intel, meetings… But the part he hated most was when the time came to review inventory. Lord, why must that be so boring? And why was not there anyone else to take care of it?

He knew the answer to that-- he had nine soldiers, one doctor, and two engineers. That was all the Army would spare on his project until they proved their worth. They just needed one chance. Just one freaking chan--Oh, for fuck’s sake. Another prototype of engine that did not make the cut.

It took all his self-restraint not to throw the datapads against the wall. Instead, he slid over the table until his head touched its surface and grabbed the back of his neck. When it was not the engines, it was their shields burning up in a display of fireworks. Or the power units exploding.

Sometimes he could not help but think the effort was not worth it. They would never make it. They would end up closing down, and he would enter history as a failure--he, and everyone that believed in his dream of stopping the Omnics before they razed Germany.

Balderich pressed his cheek against the desk, feeling beads of sweat running down his face. To make matters worse, even if it was completely unrelated, a heat wave had been hitting Germany for the past three days, and he was recluded in his tiny office. Not that it was better outside but, at least, he could have been somewhere else having  _ currywurst  _ and beer.

He just hoped his bunch of idiots were not wearing their armour in that heat. He would rather cope with drunk misconduct reports than with injury reports. Not to say he did not want to consider  _ melting  _ reports like, ever.

He tugged at the bloody tie. A moment later, he had thrown it all the way to the lonely chair in front of his table-- but that was just not enough. The air was just burning its way down his lungs, and his shirt was drenched in sweat and sticking to his body.

Fuck the shirt, too.

He had just thrown it towards the chair when the door opened up, and his visitor picked it up on the fly and stumbled backward.

Reinhardt leant on the doorway as if it was the only thing keeping him straight, grabbing his ribs with a pained gasp. Only the day before, Balderich had carried him back to their camp after his armour’s engine malfunctioned during a test. The doctors had patched him up for hours; he was lucky to be alive, and definitely in no condition to wander around just yet.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, walking towards the door to grab him before he ended on the ground. Reinhardt’s eyes were sunken with dark circles under them. His hair, unkempt. His half-buttoned shirt barely hid the bandages on his midsection, and he was not even wearing his boots. “You should be at the doctor’s.”

“I, ah--” The younger man straightened gingerly, looking quite lost. Ah, of course. Painkillers were doing a number on him, as usual. They still had not found something that worked on him that did not also make him high in some way or another.

Balderich stopped by his side and almost cupped the side of his neck. Almost. He had grown fond of him, over the years. Maybe too much. Instead of making him frown, the thought made him smile. He could always count on Reinhardt to distract him when he was feeling low, whether he wanted it or not. His shirt was a crumpled ball on the blond’s hands, he noticed. At least it had been him opening the door and not one of their female colleagues. That would have been even less appropriate.

He should not get work get to him this much, but there were times he could not help himself.

“I’ll take you back there once again. Jump on,” he turned around. A moment later, Reinhardt’s arms were around his neck. Balderich arched his back to pull him up and grab his legs, and then Reinhardt leaned his head on the General’s shoulder like an oversized doll. At least he was breathing and conscious, unlike the previous day. “And will give you hell about this, don’t doubt it for a moment.”

His blond hair tickled on Balderich’s exposed skin, his stubble scratched his neck-- and he snorted. Reinhardt better not drool over him. Although to be fair, it was likely he would not even notice. The sun crashed on them like a forge hammer, hot and implacable, and the other man weighed at least as much he did. The effort of carrying him in that heat was making him sweat buckets, so he rushed to find a shadow. Anything would do, at that point.

They had just crossed their courtyard when the younger Crusader tightened the grip on his neck. The cast on his right forearm was squeezing his trachea, and Balderich arched his back forwards to make him shift. Reinhardt stifled a pained groan against his shoulder, and his choke relented.

“We won’t get very far if you strangle me,” Balderich snorted, but there were no hard feelings. He knew he was not doing it on purpose--or at least, not with malice. “What’s the matter?”

“Had a bad dream,” he mumbled in his ear.

“Just now?”

“Hnnn…” his fingers curled over his clavicles. Thinking was difficult while on meds--and off them, too. Balderich snorted fondly. “Earlier.”

“Oh. And that’s why you were looking for me? Wanted me to tuck you back in?”

“Woke up, you were gone.”

The dread in his voice, the hurt, made him stop for a moment. Ah, for all his cockiness, Reinhardt was a big softie--and the fact that he never believed Balderich when he teased him only made it better.

He appreciated the concern, though. It was things like this that made him remember why the hard work and the failures, the millions of documents, and the scoldings of his superiors were worth it.

Everyone on his team trusted him with their lives. They trusted that his vision was right, that his ideals were worth fighting for. They went out there every day to test their armours without second thoughts, whatever happened-- and the least Balderich could do was never give up on such dedicated team. The others may not be as affectionate as Reinhardt was --or, maybe, they actually respected the chain of command better--but he knew all of them were loyal and honorable. Good people. 

_ His  _ people.

It was time he started helping them, instead of sitting his arse in his office for hours a day.

“Unlike others, I have a job to do,” Balderich said. He would have patted Reinhardt’s arm, but they would have both ended up in a pile on the ground as a result. “It’s alright, though. You know what? I’m done with reports. I designed the armour in the first place, it’s about time I helped build them. And you’ll assist me.”

Reinhardt just squeezed his thick arms tighter around his neck, almost strangling him again. At least, Balderich now understood it was a hug. A hell of a killer one, though. Balderich  coughed, but he was smiling.


End file.
